


Pure Feeling

by scrapbullet



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:51:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9356435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: “Control, Credence,” Graves enunciates slowly, “of which you have none. I’m all too aware of how that must make you feel, my boy, and so I have come up with a way in which you can take back that control.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the darling Starling for the quick beta! <3

“You have an issue with control,” Graves says, nonchalant, holding the stem of his wine glass between thumb and forefinger. “Which, considering your upbringing is not surprising. Your adoptive mother, for example, is especially _odious_...”

Credence, his spine a stiff contortion, hunched down into his seat, mumbles an assent. Scars mar the milky flesh of his wrists; old wounds as punishment for misdeeds long forgotten, displayed for all the world to see. His shirt sleeves and jacket, frayed and careworn, are too short to cover them.

Graves, after healing the whippet-thin abrasions on Credence’s palms, had taken one look at those old hurts and snarled wordlessly. Such barely-contained rage had caused Credence to flinch, instinctively fearful, and now they are here - sitting at a table in a cosy bistro, tucked into a corner out of harms way. Graves had murmured a word, a strange word imbued with his great and terrible witchcraft, and so no-one bothers them here, seemingly passing them by without being aware of their presence.

“ _Control_ , Credence,” Graves enunciates slowly, “of which you have none. I’m all too aware of how that must make you feel, my boy, and so I have come up with a way in which you can take back that control.”

Credence shoves his fingers between his knees to quell their shaking. Graves has a way of making him feel like an animal - skittish and awkward in his skin, practically vibrating with the shameful desire to please. Anything, anything at all for the merest taste of Graves’ regard... and Credence would gladly do it. “I’m sorry, Mr Graves, what is it that you want me to do?”

Sipping at the glass of wine - a red so dark it appears to Credence like blood, thick and aromatic on the palate when Graves had offered him a mouthful, moments before - Graves hums, pleasure apparent in the creases around his eyes. It’s a smile that does not touch his lips, a smile that invites, that beckons, and Credence feels his body begin to heat. The blush that rises to his pallid cheeks burns.

“My sweet boy, you’ve done so much for me.” Graves cups Credence’s cheek with fondness, thumb grazing over the sharp jut of his cheekbone. “It’s time I did a little something for you, hm?”

Swallowing thickly, Credence watches as Graves sets his glass down, and unbuttons his vest with deft fingers. They are such lovely fingers, Credence notes with growing fascination, strong and capable as they roll up the sleeves of Graves’ shirt; taking their time. It’s illicit, almost, and as Graves bares the lightly furred length of his forearms Credence emits an embarrassing gasp of desire. “Mr Graves, I-”

Graves stands, and for the briefest of moments Credence is looking up, up at a man too good for this world, _too good for Credence_ , before Graves drops to his knees, palming Credence’s thigh. “Hush, now,” he breathes, shouldering his way between Credence’s legs with ease, pressing his open mouth to the growing arousal there. “Hush, and enjoy.”

Graves’ mouth, even through clothing, is enough for Credence to moan in uncontained surprise. Lips kiss him, once, twice, too delicate to truly feel and yet... and yet he can feel it in his very veins, the strength of his lust the kind of drug his Ma had warned him of. To see this man on his knees before him is an image that will remain with Credence long after Graves has tired of him. It’s just too wonderful to let go of. 

Around them, patrons come and go, giving them nary a glance. The public setting of their dalliances has Credence’s hips bucking up, pressing against the jut of Graves’ jaw. “Oh! I’m so-” 

Graves only laughs, and rubs his stubbled cheek there, baring his teeth when Credence shudders. “No harm done.”

Clever fingers unbutton Credence’s trousers, releasing the tie on his under-things - _oh god, oh lord, what have I done to be given this gift, this sin? Is he an angel or is he a demon? Have I risen or have I fallen_ \- kisses Credence’s cock with an amused little smile. “Do you want me to suck you, Credence? Shall I take you in my mouth and give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams?” Graves licks him then, without even waiting for an answer, from root to cap before sliding the hot, rigid flesh of him inside his mouth - so hot and wet that it can’t be anything other than a slice of heaven itself. 

Credence knows he wont last long. There’s an ache in his belly that grows tight with every suck, with every gratified vibration that rumbles in Graves’ throat. His hands flutter uselessly at his sides, graceless. Blasphemy spills from his lips, unbidden. “Oh, oh god.” 

When it comes, _when he comes_ , it’s like riding a wave into shore. Pleasure pools deep, low, balls twitching as he releases into Graves’ mouth, fist stuffed into his own mouth to muffle his exultation.

Graves licks the spend from his lips, and tucks Credence’s cock into his trousers. “Now, what do you say?”

Credence, still trembling from the force of his release, can only stare in devoted wonder. “Thank you, Mr Graves.”

“Good boy.”


End file.
